Yarning to Write

Green's Hill-Amy Lane's Home - News

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

I really wasn't thinking of the Rainbow Awards this year. I'd submitted as I've done for the last few years, but I knew my offerings this year were quieter than other years, and that was okay.

I get really excited when I see other writers, newer writers, friends, win too. It's sort of awesome.

So imagine my surprise when Winter Ball won best Romantic Comedy-- that was unexpected and delightful-- as was having Lollipop and Selfie in the Runner Up categories for Best Gay Romance.

I was pleased and excited.

It's always nice to have your work acknowledged, and I'm so very happy for all the other winners and runners-up out there.

On the other hand...

Last night I performed a sleep apnea study-- some wonky heart rate things going on, that mostly have to do with being fat and old and mostly fat.

Anyway-- I figured the study would be a bust, because, hey, FAT. I spent all morning in the car driving cross town to return my equipment, and that was it. I dropped it off, and if there's nothing to report, well, you pretty much don't hear anything after that.

I expected this morning to be a big fat hassle for nothing.

So...

Uh, imagine my surprise when I got a phone call from Kaiser, telling me I was going to have to wear another piece of equipment for a week, because apparently it's all very well to be old and fat, but when your body threatens to stop breathing in your sleep, that's where you draw the line.

So, I wasn't exactly excited to get this particular surprise.

*sigh*

All things considered, I sort of wish all surprises were like the Rainbow Awards. Uh, yay!!!

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Someone paints the actual lines on the ground and you just place the car between them.

I'm always just a teeny bit off. Or a little more off. Or I've parked just too close to the car to my left to get my fat ass out of the car, and I have to back up and try again. Or, you know, I've almost taken off the mirror of the car on my right and, uh, same.

One of my favorite places to park is the yarn store-- they've got a big plate glass window, and it's like doing jete's in a mirror, I can see my self going in and I can keep my body straight.

And one of my biggest pet peeves (since, you know, I touched a nerve with the bag boys who are going to get thrown to the zombies and I seem to be on a roll here) is people who park so severely off, that anyone parking next to them is going to look fucked up as well.

Oh, you poor deprived millionaire, did you not want to park and repark your Lexus fifty million times to make sure it's in between the lines? Well, tough, because now that you are using two parking spaces and are parked opposed to all of the rules of nature, using that space and a half next to you isn't going to be hard at ALL.

Or, well, it shouldn't be, because it's a space and a half, but when you're trying to orient yourself to two differently pointed vehicles, you end up in a strange angle between of entry, and you're late for your doctor's appointment anyway, and fuck it! So what if when this person pulls out it's going to make you look greedy and uncaring AND even more of a fuck up than they are, since you apparently TRIED to park right, but just weren't competent enough to gitterdone!

So, anyway...

I got back, and the offending car was still there.

And a tiny, childish part of me was filled with glee.

Because there might have been odds that, somehow, people would realize this weirdly parked car taking up two parking spaces really WAS the catalyst behind two rows of bad parking and it WASN'T me after all.

And, quite frankly, the whole thing reminds me of when I was sitting next to a tiny woman on an airplane who yelled at me because my fat thigh slid an inch and was, oh my god, touching her and contaminating her seat with my fat.

Except it's with cars.

And parking spaces.

And why can't I be 100 pounds and drive a Kia Sportage and take up as little room as humanly possible?

Monday, December 5, 2016

First of all, this is the last Kermit Flail of 2016--and while I'm not sorry to see the year smack itself with an encyclopedia and give itself a concussion on the way out, I am very excited to have a HUGE crop of people on the flail today!

One of the things on this list is a group collaborative--the Plundered Chronicles--and as a huge fan of Thieves World, and as someone who has signed on to do more than one group collaboration, I'm excited to feature it. It's spec fic, and that really turns my key as well.

And after that... oooh boy.

We've got some favorites here-- E.J. Russell, John Inman, Rick R. Reed, and Alexa Milne have all been featured on my blog before, and they have some VERY tasty stuff on the flail. Felicitas Ivey is a friend from way back, and I think this might be her first time on the flail with a new Christmas offering, and I'm so glad to have her! Lex Chase has been featured before, but this is a contemporary and she's particularly proud of it. Michele Fogal might have had a book featured on my blog before--but I've been rooting for her writing for a couple of years now, and it's always awesome to have another! I think Lloyd A. Meeker is new to the flail, but I've known him for years and I'm happy to have him!

And WHEW! See? That's a LOT of people!

I also have Rayna Vause with an upcoming Dreamspun Desire, and this tickles me greatly. Rayna and I are buddies (we've done a lot of cons together, I'm not even kidding!) and we both thought it was fantastic that our Dreamspun Desires were featured on the same month. Then, it turns out that the lovely and talented Kate McMurray has a release between our releases, and we thought, hey! Why not have a FB party to celebrate! So I've featured Rayna's book-- ExtraSensual Perception--on the flail this month (and my own, The Virgin Manny near the bottom with my other November/December releases) but watch for the three of us to be promoting the merry hell out of our FB party and our general January hilarity.

Because damn--wouldn't it be great if January 2017 was better than damned near any other month of 2016? I know we're exhausted and a little low on hope right now, but if we can't open the new year hoping that romance will make things just a little better, then we're in worse shape than I thought. Let's have some romance, let's have some gallantry, let's have some "old fashioned values" of tolerance and inclusion and working together and helping each other and respecting our differences and valuing our similarities.

We're romance readers and writers, folks--let's have a little hope.

And with that, welcome to some diehard hope-peddlers-- I'm sure SOMEBODY here has a dream to sell that's just right for you :-)

Clickbait

by E.J. Russell

After the disastrous ending of his first serious relationship, Gideon Wallace cultivated a protective—but fabulously shiny—outer shell to shield himself from Heartbreak 2.0. Besides, romance is so not a priority for him right now. All his web design prospects have inexplicably evaporated, and to save his fledgling business, he’s been compelled to take a hands-on hardware project—as in, his hands on screwdrivers, soldering irons, and needle-nosed pliers. God. Failure could actually be an option.

Journeyman electrician Alex Henning is ready to leave Gideon twisting in the wind after their run-ins both on and off the construction site. Except, like a fool, he takes pity on the guy and offers to help. Never mind that between coping with his dad’s dementia and clocking all the overtime he can finagle, he has zero room in his life for more complications.

Apparently, an office build-out can lay the foundation for a new relationship. Who knew? But before Alex can trust Gideon with the truth about his fragile family, he has to believe that Gideon’s capable of caring about more than appearances. And Gideon must learn that when it comes to the heart, it’s content—not presentation—that matters.

I am thrilled to be offering The Plundered Chronicles as the first LGBT Kindle World, and truly believe this community of brilliant writers has created some amazing stories for you to read.

Kindle Worlds are books by authors writing in same world created by another author. Each author writing in the world has some elements that are part of original world/stories and add their own characters or world.

This world couldn’t come at a better time – a time when it is vital our collective voices are heard, when we have the chance to hold hands and remind each other that we and our stories matter.

And what stories we have.

If you like steampunk, we have it. If you like undersea adventure we have that. If you are a fan of the Plundered Series, we have backstories as well as future plotlines. This is a world where everything is possible and anything is probable. Prepare to suspend your disbelief because this powerhouse of writers is serving up more than a yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum. They have worked tirelessly to create original and entertaining stories that will make you laugh, make you cry, make you wonder, and hopefully make you want to be a part of something fantastic.

I am honored that these writers took precious time away from their own characters to play with mine in a variety of genres, and set them sailing off into outerspace or into the faery realm. I am proud of the hard work each author has put into their plotline and I am very pleased with the fabulous quality of the writing.

And thanks for stopping by, matey. I know I speak for all of the writers here when I say we are glad you came and we are confident you will find yourself so immersed in our world, you’ll come back again and again as we create even more diverse stories for your reading pleasure.

So welcome to the exciting world of Quinn’s pirate adventure where words are sharper than knives and where bravery and courage are as important as breathing. No matter what genre you enjoy reading our world has something for everyone.

It has been a year since the death of Brodie ‘Tosh’ Mackintosh’s husband, Harry. Unable to face all the memories of their life together, he moves into the house of his best friend, Darach McNaughton, and is comforted by the local Church of Scotland minister, Sam Carmichael, the middle of the five Carmichael brothers.

Sam Carmichael has always been a bit different from his siblings. He’s the only blond in a family of redheads, and the only one with religious beliefs. He also has more than one secret.

Can these two men overcome the events of their pasts and find truth and comfort with each other? And, when all their secrets are revealed, will they be forced apart or be able to plan on staying home together?

Kobbi AAkers was excited to have a traditional family Christmas with his younger sister Franzi, a famous rock star. But instead of the peaceful holiday he had planned, she’s turning it into a televised musical extravaganza, in a desperate bid for publicity.

Kobbi can adapt, especially since the show’s host Wytt Kanard is easy on the eyes and easy to work with, even if he doesn’t believe in Christmas at all. Wytt is alternatively amused and horrified at the simplicity that is Kobbi’s life and the enthusiasm he has for the holiday, all while taking care of his houseful of unexpected guests.

Maybe Kobbi can convince the cynical Wytt that Christmas isn’t an event to be managed, but something special to be shared. Maybe he can muster the courage to confess his attraction and offer Wytt a surprise present.

by Lex Chase
In Prospect Harbor, Maine, lobsterman Harper Cook has always loved the sea. He and his two brothers work the harbor waters, in a fishing village of one thousand where everybody knows everybody else’s business and nobody wants to be different.

When it’s time for the annual Men of Maine pinup calendar, Harper’s brothers eagerly volunteer him. Harper isn’t thrilled to bare it all to raise money for an elementary school playground—until he meets out-and-proud Los Angeles out-a-statah Sean Blackburn: the highly available first-grade teacher with Hollywood heartthrob looks.

Harper has no desire to ever stand out from the crowd, but Sean persists and earns Harper’s friendship. Through Sean, Harper opens up to new possibilities. Things get steamy, but Harper still protects his heart. Though the right pressure in the right place might crack even a loner lobsterman out of his shell.

States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.

Christopher Vincent is desperate enough for a job that he accepts an offer
to entertain as a psychic in a friend’s nightclub. Jackson Whitman, one of
the club’s co-owners, is less than thrilled by the new act. To him,
psychics are ridiculous and a liability. But when they come face-to-face,
attraction flares to life between them.

Someone is watching Jack and Chris from the shadows. What starts as a
series of creepy encounters leads to deadly attacks.

Jack and Chris must set aside their differences and work together to
survive a homicidal stalker. But can they survive their explosive
connection?

On a bright autumn day, Flynn Marlowe lost his best friend, a beagle named Barley, while out on a hike in Seattle’s Discovery Park.

On a cold winter day, Mac Bowersox found his best friend, a lost, scared, and emaciated beagle, on the streets of Seattle.

Two men. One dog. When Flynn and Mac meet by chance in a park the next summer, there’s a problem—who does Barley really belong to? Flynn wants him back, but he can see that Mac rescued him and loves him just as much as he does. Mac wants to keep the dog, and he can imagine how heartbreaking losing him would be—but that's just what Flynn experienced.

A “shared custody” compromise might be just the way to work things out. But will the arrangement be successful? Mac and Flynn are willing to try it—and along the way, they just might fall in love.

Dell doesn't want to hide anymore. As the first hermaphrodite on the human colony planet of Ameliaura, Dell has spent the last year trying to blend into the crowd. Snubbing the public eye with flamboyance and scandal worked for a while, but lately the attention just feels like loneliness. After surviving a vicious attack, Dell falls into the arms of Zavvy, a man who has made it his mission to help abandoned hermaphrodite children.

Zavvy has been alone for years. No one can understand why he's given up everything to take in street children and any hope of romance is out the window. Until Dell. Found naked and bleeding by the kids, Dell fulfills Zavvy's every youthful fantasy of the City's unashamed exotic night life.

The needs of an impromptu orphanage leave little room for a relationship, but harder still, Dell’s past comes back with a vengeance. Dell will have to step into the light again to fight for a home before the age old tide of violence rises again.

WARNING: this book contains a child who is actually an ancient dragon made of fungus, a lovely villain imprisoned inside the creature’s body, a hasty clan gathering in the collective subconscious, a hermaphrodite orphanage on the brink, and some very naughty acts on a staircase.

Eight-year-old Howie Evinger is convinced that his dad would be happier if he found a new husband. Howie would be happier, too. And somewhere out there in the city of Vancouver, there's the right man for his dad to love. But how to find him? That’s a problem, especially if you’re just a kid and your dad says he doesn’t want another husband.

With the help of his quirky aunt who calls herself a Buddhist Wiccan, Howie builds his very own solstice altar with cool symbols to support his search. It has a candle, a feather and a twisty stick, plus an agate for his dad, and a scallop shell for his new husband. Share Howie’s solstice adventure as he learns how real magic requires courage and patience as well as symbols.

It’s not easy breaking into show biz. Especially when you aren’t exactly loaded with talent. But Malcolm Fox won’t let a little thing like that hold him back.

Actually, it isn’t the show-business part of his life that bothers him as much as the romantic part—or the lack thereof. At twenty-six, Malcolm has never been in love. He lives in San Diego with his roommate, Beth, another struggling actor, and each of them is just as unsuccessful as the other. While Malcolm toddles off to this audition and that, he ponders the lack of excitement in his life. The lack of purpose. The lack of a man.

Then Beth’s brother moves in.

Freshly imported from Missouri of all places, Cory Williams is a towering hunk of muscles and innocence, and Malcolm is gobsmacked by the sexiness of his new roomie from the start. When infatuation enters the picture, Malcolm knows he’s really in trouble. After all, Cory is straight!

Carter Embree has always hoped to be rescued from his productive, tragically boring, and (slightly) ethically compromised life. But when an urchin at a grocery store shoves a bundle of fluff into his hands, Carter goes from rescuee to rescuer—and he needs a little help.

Sandy Corrigan, the vet tech who helps ease Carter into the world of dog ownership, first assumes that Carter is a crazy-pants client who just needs to relax. But as Sandy gets a glimpse into the funny, kind, sexy man under Carter’s mild-mannered exterior, he sees that with a little care and feeding, Carter might be Super-Pet Owner—and decent boyfriend material to boot.

But Carter needs to see himself as a hero first. As he says good-bye to his pristine house and hello to carpet treatments and dog walkers, he finds that there really is more to himself than a researching drudge without a backbone. A Carter Embree can rate a Sandy Corrigan. He can be supportive, he can be a hero, he can be a man who stands up for his principles!

Mason Hayes’s love life has a long history of losers who don’t see that Mason’s heart is as deep and tender as his mouth is awkward. He wants kindness, he wants love—and he wants someone who thinks sex is as fantastic as he does. When Terry Jefferson first asks him out, Mason thinks it’s a fluke: Mason is too old, too boring, and too blurty to interest someone as young and hot as his friend’s soccer teammate.

The truth is much more painful: Mason and Terry are perfectly compatible, and they totally get each other. But Terry is still living with his toxic, suffocating parent and Mason doesn’t want to be a sugar daddy. Watching Terry struggle to find himself is a long lesson in patience, but Mason needs to trust that the end result will be worth it, because finally, he’s found a man worth sharing his heart with.

Sometimes family is a blessing and a curse. When Tino Robbins is roped into helping his sister deliver premade dinners when he should be studying for finals, he’s pretty sure it's the latter! But one delivery might change everything.

Channing Lowell’s charmed life changes when his sister dies and leaves him her seven-year-old son. He’s committed to doing what's best for Sammy… but he’s going to need a lot of help. When Tino lands on his porch, Channing is determined to recruit him to Team Sammy.

Tino plans to make his education count—even if that means avoiding a relationship—but as he falls harder and harder for his boss, he starts to wonder: Does he have to leave his newly forged family behind in order to live his promising tomorrow?

Lady Cory has carved out a life for herself not just as a wife to three husbands but also as one of the rulers of the supernatural communities of Northern California—and a college student in search of that elusive degree. When a supernatural threat comes crashing into the hard-forged peace of Green's Hill, she and Green determine that they're the ones in charge of stopping the abomination that created it. To protect the people they love, Cory, Bracken, and Nicky travel to Redding to confront a tight-knit family of vampires guarding a terrible secret. It also leads them to a conflict of loyalties, as Nicky's parents threaten to tear Nicky away from the family he's come to love more than his own life.

Cory has to work hard to hold on to her temper and her life as she tries to prove that she and Green are not only leaders who will bind people to their hearts, but also protectors who will keep danger from running rampant.

First Edition published as Rampant: The Fourth Book of the Little Goddess Series by iUniverse, 2010.

Okay--it's another post of random pictures that do not actually match my story. Feel free to enjoy Squish's smile as she wakes up from her nap at her brother's tournament and the dogs sleeping on me as though they have never seen me before that evening.

Also, the kids thought it was absolutely necessary that ZoomBoy's pink water bath bomb be documented, although I understand it smelled a bit of strawberry and they were hoping for rose.

Also, we have a selfie, by Zoomboy, and you know, I can never resist those, though I thought I'd share.

And now for the story of why the poor stock boys at my grocery store are going to die at the zombie apocalypse.

So, on Wednesday I had some extra time between my workout and picking up the kids, and we needed milk. I went to Raley's which is a different store than my usual Safeway, and while I was there I bought one of those really nice insulated freezer bags.

These things are big--a lovely capacity, and they're insulated, and can do hot or cold, and they zip up and everything. Whee! I also bought a couple of their larger reusable grocery bags.

For those of you who don't live in state, California passed a law outlawing thin plastic grocery bags for stores that serve a certain sized population--so big chain grocery stores make you re-use your bags, which is actually really good for the environment, but it takes some getting use to. I know I've been toting around a "bag full of bags"-- or a small canvass bag full of smaller nylon bags--because I usually go to the grocery store for BIG BATCHES of food. (This, by the way, is changing--my batches are getting smaller, and it's a harder transition than you may think. But back to zombies.)

So, today I go to Safeway and one of the big things on my list is Klondike Bars because yum and if we have A DESSERT to eat, we eat A DESSERT and not lots of shit that's really bad for us.

So I bring my handy new large sized insulated tote, a couple of other large sized reusable grocery bags, and my bag full of nylon bags because we always need more.

Anyway-- cut to me at the checkout stand, when I send all my bags down the conveyor belt and the young, very pretty, very clueless clerk starts filling my grocery bags.

He takes that nice insulated carrier, and, with Klondike bars RIGHT THERE starts filling it up with hotdogs, cheese, salad mix, apples, and generally EVERYTHING THAT DOES NOT BELONG IN AN INSULATED CARRIER ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S FIFTY DEGREES OUTSIDE.

I watch him, thinking, "Okay, how much of a bitch am I going to be? Do I gently school him? Do I try to explain?"

Suddenly, I turn into Milton from Office Space. "Uh, refrigerated. Insulated. Freezer. Or heat. But now it's freezer. Uh,"

So of course because they're young and hot and I'm, you know, fucking MILTON obsessing about the red stapler, the cashier and the clerk ignore me, and then the guy bagging the groceries gets called away. He's been looking at that special bag sort of sad now, because it's NOT bottomless like Hermione's purse, and he can't fit one more BAG OF CHEESE in it, and it just sort of flops over.

Like I said. Sad.

So I go around and start taking shit out of it and packing Klondike bars and frozen broccoli and fresh meat because, you know, IT'S AN INSULATED FUCKING BAG!

"Who does that?" I mutter to myself. "It's obviously meant to keep shit cold, who puts hot dogs and cheese in the bag meant to keep shit cold when there's ice cream RIGHT THERE?"

Anyway, I re-stock the bag, and the guy comes up and stands uncomfortably behind me. (Think the fuckturd who will be in the White House when he was debating with the actual person who was elected--yes, that uncomfortable looming.)

"Uh, miss?" (Miss? Who is he fooling?) "Would you like me to finish up bagging your groceries?"

And I am torn between, "Go away kid, I don't have time for your bullshit," and, "I haven't seen this poor pigeon here before, maybe I should give him a chance."

"Sure," I said brightly, and I step away from the freezer bag. There is one box of Klondike bars left, and enough room for it.

The kids puts hot dogs in there instead, then gets to the Klondike bars and stares at them as if to say, "Wait... my lizard brain is telling me something important."

"It's a freezer bag," I say. "Those go in the freezer bag."

He shoves them in the freezer bag like he's embarrassed, and then tries to shove the hot dogs on top of them and then gets confused because he can't zip the bag.

Now remember--I have more than one kind of bag.

After he dithers about what to do with the ONE BAG HE'S PACKED, he puts it in the cart--unzipped--and what follows is a highly awkward version of interpretive dance in which two guys--the cashier and the clerk--each pull a bag out of my bag of bags, look at it for a moment as though they've never seen a bag before, and debate... "Do I put one bottle of soda water in this one, and just put it on the counter like that? Do I try to stuff this bag with hot dogs AND cheese, or does the cheese stand alone? Oh, he's got the bigger grocery bag--is that or is it not big enough for apples, cheese, and hot dogs, or should we just put the apples in that bag and call it a day?"

Both guys.

Both guys are doing this.

The line behind my register is getting longer and longer and longer.

Now, if I was just one random granola lady screwing up the system with my bag of bags and random bagosity, I would feel bad about this.

But remember-- this is a STATE LAW now. Every customer these guys are going to get is going to have some bag variable that they are gong to have to tackle. They can no longer put their brains on autopilot and just shove everything into an ultra-thin non-biodegradable condom wrapper and call it a day.

Seriously, folks, when President Fuckturd gives everybody zombie virus instead of flu shots because he thinks that would be a fucking HOOT, these guys are gonna DIE.

And me?

Well, I might live a little longer. I've got a freezer full of broccoli and Klondike bars--my family can last for a month!

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

I'm working on the sequel to Fish Out of Water, tentatively titled Red Fish, Dead Fish, and it's about 75K in. The first one was 95K, I think this one will be about the same, so, yeah--almost done-- yay!

Uh, of course, the point of Nano is to write 50K words in a month--and yes, I do this most months. This year, for some reason, I'm a little behind--I'll be at about 550K by the end of the year. Most years I make 600-750. Either A. Old age is catching up with me, B. I made two more trips this year than I'd been planning, C. I had a LOT of editing this year that I didn't have last year, or D. I've been making a concerted effort to clean the house and make that a priority because I'm going to be stuck here for a while.

I'm thinking it's E. All of the above.

Anyway-- 50K a month is a solid, productive working schedule for me--I'm happy with that.

But here's the thing--

When you're always writing--and always have a project underway--starting a novel on Nov. 1st and finishing on Nov. 30 isn't always possible even if you make the word count--even if you make more! (For instance, I'm going to be at about 55K tonight--so, more!)

Some people are finishing one project and starting another in the middle of the month.

Some people have already started a long project and are working on the middle.

Now I've done both--this is the seventh time I think I've entered and won, so I've got my ways of keeping track of what I'm entering.

In this case, the words "emotional coma" were only used once in the entire manuscript. I'd go back to where those words were used--that was where I started writing on Nov. 1st--and select from that part of the manuscript on.

So, I'd like scroll down.

50,000 words of just... scrolling.

Took over a minute.

I'd lose track of how many micronaps I took in between.

I'd start applying moisturizer, doing my hair, cleaning my desk with my other hand, all while I scrolled down the remainder of my work so I could enter it.

The night I won... I entered what I'd written three times.

The first time, I was five-hundred words short.

The second time I was seventy-two words short.
The third time, I made it.

But I began thinking while I was scrolling that last time (because it's a MINUTE of just SCROLLING, and I got BORED) that this was a curious hoop to use to test a person's stamina.

It sort of made me wish I could just BAM start one book on November 1st and work until the end.

For no other reason than to push Windows + A/ Windows + C/ Windows +V and have the whole thing done.

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

We don't shelter our children, but we don't expose them to too much sex and violence on television.

We talk respectfully of everyone except politicians. (Most notably the racist, fascist, bigoted fucker in the White House, because we want them to know that facts matter, and this idiot wouldn't know a fact if it pissed on his feet.)

We don't let them hang out online with anyone who says the F-word more than mom.

We don't watch horror movies or porn or anything that's going to give them nightmares while they're in the same room.

We generally try not to desensitize them to the big mysteries of adulthood while not letting the big scary things be a smack in the face like a dead fish, either.

So, tonight, when we were watching @midnight, and young Mr. Hardwick was pretending to take two cocks at a time, we changed the channel. Also, because Mate had checked live feed for the show and saw they were discussing Santa Claus, and he didn't want to pay for therapy bills that way either.

Mate changed to the Simpson's marathon.

Where we watched a parody of Run, Lola, Run, a commercial for a KY product that made it so you don't have to imagine your grandmother to stave off orgasm, and a commercial for Adam and Eve Adult Toys and Lingerie.

*headdesk*

Fuck it.

I'm just going to have him watch The Hangover, Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, and Superbad this weekend, and then they'll know everything, including what not to do with a ping-pong ball!

Monday, November 28, 2016

Made an appointment for the doc today and they gave me a time slot at 11:40. I parked (no easy feat-- Roseville is swarming with SUV's and big trucks and all the parking spaces are fitted for MG convertibles) and was walking across to my med building when my phone rang.

It was my doctor-- he thought we were having a phone appointment.

I tried to convince him we weren't.

He was very confused.

He said to come in anyway and I said "Good! Be there in two minutes!"

Anyway, when I got there, he sheepishly admitted the appointment was in office, and I WAS supposed to be there, and then we started talking about my problem.

The question of exercise came up and I talked about walking the dogs came up.

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Okay-- so first of all, Summer Lessons is out, and so far folks are liking it-- that's always nice to hear :-)

Second of all, we drove up to Grass Valley for a craft fair on Saturday.

Now, this was sort of funny. My stepmom was talking about a girl's day out a few weeks ago. I couldn't make it then, and I was depressed because it was at a craft fair, and I love them.

We started talking about craft fairs, and a week later she said, "There's one in Grass Valley!"

"Oh, great! I wonder if Mate would want to come!" See--I'd forgotten completely about the girl's day, because Mate likes to do different stuff, and, well, I've been missing time with Mate that didn't involve a sports object of some sort.

Anyway-- stepmom bailed because it's partially an outdoor venue, and because it was pissing down rain.

But Mate, who gets all excited about squelching rain in his tennis shoes was all excited to go, so we went.

And we had a great deal of fun.

And we bought Christmas presents, both cool and odd. (Christmas ornaments made out of goose eggs. I was immune to their charms, but Mate was enchanted.)

And ZoomBoy got a whole new batch of bath bombs--those bath salt things that dissolve when you toss them in? He loves them--and he was particularly bedazzled by one called Reindeer Poop. One bath bomb and our house smelled like gingerbread and evergreen.

And so did ZoomBoy--he was thrilled!

Squish got herself a cocktail hat that is FABulous--now it just needs a dress.

Dad got my parents the perfect Christmas gift--and me?

I bought yarn.

Because.

Alpaca/wool in 620 yard put ups. It was just too delicious not to!

And on the way home?

We stopped at a Beach Hut, and discovered these.

They were weird. But at least they weren't a usual Saturday, right?

So anyway--

Everybody got home and napped and dried off, and I went to serve pie, because it was the sort of day that deserved pie, really, and a terrible thing happened.

See, if you follow me on Twitter, you know that I went to take the dogs for a walk, and I had to juggle dogs, leash, phone, and, oh my God--pants! We were down to the two pairs of pants in my collection that I ordered when I was sure I was the size of a full grown bull elephant.

Now in fact, I'm only the size of a modest hippopotamus, but these pants...

These pants are bull elephant pants.

I was pulling them up all day at the craft fair. Walking between the buildings in the pissing down rain went like this: Squelch, squelch, yank, squelch, yank, squelch, yank, squelch, squelch, squelch, "I gotta to to the bathroom!" because by then my underwear had fallen down inside the pants and then I came out and resumed the cycle again.

But I made it, right? I made it home, took them off to nap, put them back on to resume my day, and here I was, all safe and sound in the kitchen, slicing pie.

I came to the living room with a slice of pie in each hand, ready to hand them to Mate and Squish, when it happened.

Yup, right around my ankles.

I stood there for a moment, feeling stupid as Mate and Zoomboy dissolved into hoots of laughter.

With dignity I stepped out of my pants and went to give them their pie when I felt the full horror of my situation descend.

"Take the pie!" I begged. "Take the pie! My underwear are--fuck!"

Mate managed to say "Look away, child, look away!" (ala DeadPool) before he lost his shit. Squish had to grab the pie while I pulled up my underwear and stepped back into my pants.

"What are you doing?" she asked, laughing.

"Recovering my dignity so I can get the other two pieces of pie," I told her, as composedly as I could.

"You mean you have some left?"

"Pie?"

"No, dignity. I knew you had pie."

"Well good, because no, that was apparently the last dignity I'll ever have."

Mate and ZB dissolved into laughter again and I sat down with my pie.

As I stuffed a bite in my mouth, Mate said, "You know, your pants have been trying to do that all weekend."
"Well now that they've fulfilled their mission, I think I need to turn them into a craft project, don't you?"

He chuckled, and I went back to planning something for the pants that involved a roller-cutter and lots of tiny pieces.

But even if I used them to spell out the word, I think my dignity is never coming back.

Friday, November 25, 2016

So, a long time ago, back when Squish was a teeny baby, I used to go shopping on Black Friday. I had a friend who'd get me at 5 in the morning, we'd gas up on coffee and hit the stories.

It was horrible.

I remember once, we were at Target, and I just sort of noped out of all that chaos and hunched over my full cart of crap and knit until she found me and dragged me someplace equally as awful.

Since then, Mate and I have made it a point to go out together. A. He keeps me from spending so much money, and B. He knows which electronic things they want and need, and that really helps. C. As sort of a side benny, I get to go out to lunch with my husband--win!

Anyway--I miss that friend-- she was a casualty of the teaching job debacle--but I don't ever miss going out on Black Friday.

I'm going to stay home and make chicken and stuffing instead. This is important, mind you-- I didn't cook yesterday, and when people offered me leftovers, I took them for Big T and Chicken instead, because starving students, I remember it well. (They ended up with an entire pie and a loaf of bread--I'm like, damn, I don't think I ever walked away with that much when I was their age!)

So, Black Friday is going to be a decent time for me, which is good--because I have a book coming out!

Yes-- Summer Lessonsis out today. Now, I don't have quite the huge blog tour planned like I did for Freckles, but I do have a few stops where I've written some original content, and I'll post that here too.

Now, a few words about Summer Lessons-- this book sort of walks the knife edge between yellow and orange. There's a lot of humor in this book, but unlike Freckles,there's some pain and some tears too. I know there are a couple of parts that made my eyes burn through the final edit. Be ready for them-- but be ready for the laughter too. I know Mason and Terry took my by surprise every single time.

Summer Lessons

by Amy Lane

a Winter Ball novel

Mason Hayes’s love life has a long history of losers who don’t see that Mason’s heart is as deep and tender as his mouth is awkward. He wants kindness, he wants love—and he wants someone who thinks sex is as fantastic as he does. When Terry Jefferson first asks him out, Mason thinks it’s a fluke: Mason is too old, too boring, and too blurty to interest someone as young and hot as his friend’s soccer teammate.

The truth is much more painful: Mason and Terry are perfectly compatible, and they totally get each other. But Terry is still living with his toxic, suffocating parent and Mason doesn’t want to be a sugar daddy. Watching Terry struggle to find himself is a long lesson in patience, but Mason needs to trust that the end result will be worth it, because finally, he’s found a man worth sharing his heart with.

About Me

I am creative, distracted, and terribly weird. I love my children to distraction, and I love my hobbies even when they piss me off. I come from a double line of extremely creative, intelligent people who hated authority so much they dodged higher education, and I married a wonderful man who is quiet, conservative, devestatingly funny, and perfect. Our children are constant reminders that God and Goddess have a profound sense of humor, and that all of the things you dislike most about yourself but pretend don't exist really do come back on the karmic wheel to kick your ass when you least expect it. My family keeps me young and humble and I try every day to make them proud. I've written a LOT of books--I can't even count anymore, most of them for Dreamspinner Press and Riptide Press, but some of them published on my own. I write to placate the voices in my head, profanity is the element I swim in, and knitting socks at stoplights has become my twitch.

Quickening

The fifth book (but not the final) of the Little Goddess Series is complete and should be out sometime in late 2016 or 2017.

FanFic Fridays

FanFic Fridays happen once a week, strictly for playing around. If you have a favorite fandom you'd like me to try, by all means leave suggestions in the comments! I may not take them, but it's always nice to have suggestions.

*Kermit Flail*

If you would like to submit a new release for *Kermit Flail* Monday, simply e-mail me at amylane@greenshill.com with your title, .jpg cover attachment, blurb, and buy link. It helps if I know you-- I'll say sweet things about you-- but even if I don't, I'm happy to put you up on the *Flail*.